What Could Have Been
by Ataea
Summary: .BB.Brenth.HurtComfort. What if it was Brennan, and not Booth, who had opened her refrigerator door in Two Bodies in a Lab?


Disclaimer: If I owned them, there would be insane amounts of BrennanHurtBoothComfortAngst in the series. And by insane, I mean unreasonably large.

Summary: What if it was Brennan, not Booth, who opened the refrigerator door in _Two Bodies in a Lab_?

Author's Note: I say this is an oneshot because I have very little motivation to write anything. The fact that I churned this out is a miracle in itself. Continuation, however, is always possible, especially with the right motivation. Reviews are always appreciated and I guarantee a response.

* * *

Temperance Brennan felt more then a little bit unsettled at the fact that her working partner was trailing her to her apartment. If it was any other man, he would have been effectively incapacitated by now, and she wouldn't be having this conversation with herself. 

She opened her apartment door automatically, her fingers fumbling through her jacket pockets for the large key chain that held metal mementos of every aspect of her life. Daily routine made this act nearly automatic for her, forcing her mind to focus on the unnatural presence of someone else standing right behind her on her doorstep.

The silence that had lingered during their brief journey up to her apartment was threatening to choke the life out of any comfort she might have taken in another human presence after the adventures of earlier today, and as such, she scrambled to think of some sort of safe conversational ground that would serve to bridge the growing chasm between herself and Booth.

Talking about work – the latest case – was always a safe place to go, but the lingering bitterness that came from being forcibly separated from her work made her pause only a second before breaking the silence.

"Romano didn't give us anything, so I should probably be back at the lab."

Booth seemed to move inside her apartment as naturally as if it were his own. Somehow, that left her vaguely annoyed. He always did seem to have a grasp of every situation, social or suspect. She was a bit tired though, perhaps she would take this opportunity for a quick rest; but first, she'd have to shoo the intrusive Special Agent out of her apartment. Before she could voice this, though, Booth spoke up,

"No, your squints can handle it. You haven't slept in over a day, alright? You need to get some rest. I'll sleep on the couch."

She nearly punched him at the sheer audacity of that statement. What gave him the right to assume he could stay in her apartment? Managing to rein in any homicidal urges, Brennan decided to phrase herself in a polite vein.

"You think you're staying here with me?"

Booth, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice the anger boiling beneath her skin.

"Yeah. Nice place, by the way, Bones."

Perhaps he didn't understand what she was trying to tell him. Either way, she had to get him out of her home, or she'd never be able to sleep properly. Protesting her point might annoy him enough to get him to leave her alone.

"No, I'm locked in here, Booth. I'll be fine."

Of course, Booth was Booth. And Booth wasn't listening to her.

"Okay, look. I want you to stay away from your windows too, okay? A sniper has a clear shot from any of these surrounding buildings."

She could feel a headache coming on. A sniper! He was approaching ridiculous. What would a sniper want with her anyways? Booth was clearly overreacting. Again.

"I could have just stayed at the lab. The security is tight there."

That would have been the perfect compromise for their present situation. Booth would have had his overdeveloped alpha-male instincts appeased, and she herself would have had some time to feed her own appetite for work.

"Then you would have worked. You would have gotten tired, and you would have been more vulnerable when you did go out. Trust me, this is the best, alright?"

What was he getting at? She was perfectly capable of protecting herself –

"…where's the TV?"

TV? Oh, right. Booth would be the type that spent a noticeable amount of time in front of that electronic device.

"I had one, but it broke. I'm…I mostly just read and listen to music."

She shouldn't have been so ashamed at her hobbies, but somehow, having to admit that to Booth, of all people, made her feel just a little bit inferior.

"So let's listen to some music, huh?"

Music was a good choice. Music was always a good – What was Booth doing with her CD collection?

"Music…What do we have, Bones? Wow…World Music. Uh, there's a shock. Tibetan throat singers. Rock on, Bones."

That particular collection had been one that she'd picked as a relaxant after spending a few weeks in the company of a tribe that boasted a particularly talented group of said musicians. She'd mainly used that for when she needed to work through something long and monotonous.

"That's mostly for work, so…"

"Kanye West, Captain Power…Uh…Oh whoa, alright. Look at this, man, lots of jazz. Wow, I think all that freeform stuff can be a little bit too unpredictable for me."

Free form stuff? What was he – Oh. The so called "rap" genre, as the clerk at the CD store had referred to it as. She'd admit to a special affinity for it, but that would probably be rooted in its more technical facets.

"No, I love it. The artist has to live within a set tonal structure and trust his own instincts to find his way out of an infinite maze of musical possibilities…and the great ones do."

Booth was staring at her again. Was there something on her face?

"What?"

He seemed a bit too quick in responding.

"Oh, nothing. I just…I just never expected that you would…you know…"

Again with making her feel the need to justify herself. There really was something about that man that rubbed her the wrong way.

"That I would love music? Well, I don't usually get to talk about it; but since you brought it up I thought…"

"No…hey! I didn't mean to make you feel self-conscious or…Whoa, what's this?"

Booth had let out a short bark of laughter after catching his eye on something on top of her CD collection, but she could only feel a vague sense of embarrassment at seeing her Foreigner CD very visibly located at the top of her collection.

"What is it?"

"Nice."

He wasn't even paying attention to her. What was so interesting about her old Foreigner CD anyways?

"Booth."

Trying to catch his attention didn't seem to be working. And…He plays the CD. Shit.

"Uh…how did that get there?"

"Oh please, everybody loves Foreigner."

Booth didn't seem to mind the fact that he had just caught her with the one and only "guilty pleasure" group that she bothered to keep in her extensive collection. However, Brennan found her attention to be focused more on how Booth was getting caught up in the song. Hot Blooded? Yes…That would be it.

"Hot Blooded? Talk about a guilty pleasure. Check it, baby."

There was something strangely appealing about Special Agent Seeley Booth doing the air guitar to Foreigner in her living room. Looking at him long enough brought back vague memories of a time long ago when Russ would do something equally ridiculous to some similar song. But…Russ wasn't here anymore. There was no one looking, and the song really was catchy…Just one time wouldn't hurt.

Brennan was broken out of her thoughts by the distinctive tone of her cell phone. Booth didn't seem to notice, and she was forced to maneuver out of his way to reach it before answering.

"Brennan…David, Hi…I'm fine, thanks…Booth, yeah…I'm still under lockdown until we solve these crimes…Yes, Foreigner…Okay, I'll…Okay, sure…I'll talk to you tomorrow…Okay, thanks for calling. Bye."

She had to admit to the fact that her mind was less on the fact that she was conversing with nice, safe David and more on the annoying, but intriguing FBI agent doing the air guitar two feet from her. But after she hung up on David, a slight awkwardness seemed to infect their surroundings. Booth was the first to speak up.

"Wait, I hope you didn't think…"

"No."

Time to cure him of those notions. She did like David more, didn't she? Booth, however, didn't seem to notice how she had already answered. He just kept on rambling.

"No, 'cause I…I wouldn't want you to…uh…you know, ruin things for you; ruin anything."

How was she supposed to respond to that?

"Not a problem."

The music played on for a few more seconds. Those few words had seemingly diffused most of the awkwardness between them, but Booth still looked a bit uncomfortable after that call from David.

"Hey, you got a soda, some juice?"

Soda…Juice…Yes, she'd stocked up on some orange juice and club soda earlier that week.

"Yeah, in my fridge. I'll get it."

"No, no, no. You know what? I'm…I'm not your guest. You don't' have to wait on me. I'll get it. Wait, do you want anything?"

While Booth was right in saying he was definitely not her guest, it was just common courtesy for her to get something as simple as a drink for a friend in her home. Booth _was_ her friend, right?

"That's okay, I'll get it. Orange juice or club soda?"

Brennan made her way to her fridge, half-turned towards Booth. He seemed faintly embarrassed at having her get something as trivial as this for him, which was puzzling for her. It was only a drink.

"Orange juice would be nice."

"Alright then."

Something seemed a little bit off about her kitchen. She'd probably left a bowl or pan out by accident; she tended to do that during busy cases like this one.

There was a faint click as she opened the refrigerator door, and then the world went white.

* * *

Somehow Bones' apartment seemed to be everything he'd always imagined it to be. Neat, clean, and fairly reeking of international culture and ancient relics. The faint sense of cold loneliness though, had seemingly evaporated after he started blasting Foreigner. He gave a brief glance at Bones' back as she retreated to her kitchen. Somehow, doing something as ridiculous as the air guitar with his work partner in her apartment on his first visit didn't seem at all strange. In fact, it all left him with a glowing feeling in his stomach, and an irrepressible urge to grin. 

"Alright then."

He gave another quick visual scan around her apartment. For Bones' sake, he'd do everything in his power to protect her from that crazy bastard, from all those crazy bastards out there. No matter what kind of alpha-beta tendencies she made it out to be.

There was a faint click that sounded pealing alarms in his sniper-sharpened brain, and he whipped his body around just in time to see Brennan opening her fridge door. He was unable to voice the warnings that were screaming at him from every part of his mind, and only had time to move one futile step closer to Bones, one hand outstretched in vain, as his world seemed to explode in front of his eyes.

Booth was barely aware of his feet moving beneath him. The world around him had blurred to grayness around the burning debris that was Bones' kitchen. And Bones. Brilliant, witty, annoying, headstrong Bones.

The seconds that it took for him to reach her side seemed a painful eternity; each second etched the smoldering scene and her near-burning body into his mind. He willed her to move, to talk, to breath, to get up and tell him it was all a joke to get him to loosen up…

His legs gave out the moment he reached her side, and it was with trembling hands that he threw the fridge door off her smoldering body. Most of the front of her body was actually still burning slightly from the explosion, and the sight of Bones so incapacitated nearly tore out his heart.

He paused for a moment to quickly shrug off his suit jacket before patting it against Bones' body. For a second, the situation seemed to overwhelm him, and raw emotion seemed to surge out of his chest and rush through his head. For a moment, he allowed himself to cradle Bones' prone body against his chest, bury his head in her smoky smelling hair, and let out a half-strangled sob of pain and remorse.

The next second, the trained FBI agent took over, and he shakily groped for his phone.

"911, please state your emergency."

* * *

As a post-note, I'd like to say that I am in no way a newb to the world of fanfiction or the Bones fandom. The fact that I've never actually written a fanfic for pretty much any of my fandoms is due to my extreme laziness and lack of motivation. Both of which can be cured by a healthy dose of nagging and reviews. 


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